A boy in 4A once played with his toys
He jumped, rumbled and squeaked on the floors
Now he has moved far away
and left the squeaks behind

From 4A there are now different rumbles
different squeaks
a violent squall between two
who
should not have
 but did
And yet another boy has moved
This time to Rikers

4A is plagued
divorce and disease

yet seeping through our floors
there is another kind of noise
not bed thumps
or red lumps of heart ache

instead it is a deep sense
a pride
that all who have known the walls and halls
of 152
all who have relished in the dog days of summer
and the fall days of golden leaves
all who have come to embrace the magic
of backyard winter snowmen giggles
and hopes of spring

that this home
this heart that pervades and pumps in the lives of those
fortunate enough to pulse and prosper

this home has birthed
possibility
yours
mine
ours.

Flo

Since the day she arrived, I dare say, nothing in this apartment has ever been quite same.  She came to us in October 2011.  New York was crisp and abuzz with coffee drinkers and Halloween hopefuls.  The neighbors on our block treated us like we were celebrities, the family with the new adorable puppy, Flo.   She looked like this:  

but now, she is more like this: 

If you're thinkin' she looks like she's a bit of a beast, well, a picture is worth a thousand words. 

Written in 2010.  Must have been really bummed about something.  Glad I don't remember what it was exactly:

Hope

Snow will fall tonight.
It will blanket
troubled teens,
a troubled husband,
a troubled self.
Snow,
cold as it is,
can warm our souls
like comfort food
bringing
goodness
giggles
and joy.
Balls of snow
will hurl from our fingers
splat on our coats
and melt the freezing frenzy
of despair.
It will snow tonight.

I hope.

Dear Dave,

Dave    

     Today it is your birthday.  You are officially a senior citizen. So be sure to shop on days in the grocery stores when they celebrate seniors.  Get that 10% discount. I think you can get some deals at the movies, restaurants, and even Kohls, too.  They have deals for you old timers on Wednesdays.  Plug it into your phone so you don't forget.  The mind is the first thing to go, bro.

     I think you are at that place where you have to take some driver's ed refresher course. I could be wrong, but isn't there something about 55 and staying alive?  NVM, I'm probably wrong about that. 

     You can definitely dip into your retirement, too.  But why bother?  Everything you need is in your family and friends.  

     You're well into the double digits, man. A couple a nickels.  A pair of fives.  A place to round up. (Don't do that btw. No one wants to be older than they are. Unless they're like, 12, or something.)

     Do you realize that you could live 30+ more years?  THIRTY!!!!!  The number 55 in the study of numerology is about independence and personal freedom. So relish in the next 30-40+  years being free. Enjoy every second of today, tomorrow, and the days that follow. 

Happy Birthday to Dee Dee Ampoohi (David Anthony).

Happy Birthday you bag-a-bones.

Happy Birthday to Teddy, Johnny and Billy's best friend.

To my brother.

My kids' uncle.

My husband's brother in law.

My parents' son. 

And to someone who never lets the conversation on the ride home to New York run dry.

I hope you know I love you.

Day

Open the classroom door.
Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy?  Can I?
Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy?  Nancy?
Nancy? Nancy? Should I? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy?  Nancy?
Nancy? Is it okay if I forgot my? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy?
Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Can I talk to you in the hall? Nancy? Nancy?
Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy?
Nancy? Nancy? Have you seen my? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy?
Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy?
Do we have to? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy?
Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Nancy? Who's is this? Nancy?
Bye. Hug. Handshake. Breathe.

Resolution

The New Years Resolution.  For some it's the dreaded New Years Resolution.  "I'm starting my diet on January 1st."  "I'm definitely quitting.  That's it."  "I'm moving on!"

I like to think of it as an onset of a new beginning.  A chance for change.  A reason to begin.

In recent years, my students and I started writing our own resolutions, but we called them, "Our Next Chapter." And let me tell you, although their chapters are not exactly page-turners, my students are quite precocious.  Here's what they had to say:

"I'm gonna exercise more.  Usually all I do in the winter is ice skate a lot, but I want to do more."

"I'm really wimpy with the piano, so, I'm gonna practice more."

"I need to study my fractions.  I don't know my 1/6s.  And I'm going to listen to my classmates when they're talking."

"I want to stop keeping secrets from my friends."

"Mine is  to study harder...try to do better on tests.  Mostly I want to take the road of opportunity and make the right turn."

Yes. Out of the mouth of a fifth grader comes the truth.

This year, my students and I are asking ourselves this question:  What did I do today that will make the world a better place and me a better me?  The answers are getting stronger and more meaningful as each day passes.   And while it is such a powerful question for anyone really, my fifth graders are oddly taken by it as well.

XXXX:  "Today I helped someone in math."
Me:  You made the world a better place.
XXXX:  (big smile)

YYYY:  "Today I worked hard on my draft on the Founding Figures. I really made good use of my time and focused."
Me:  "You made you a better you!"
YYYY: (looked like he surprised himself)

So on this evening in NYC, I ask me, What did you do today to make the world a better place and you a better you?

I laughed.

I prayed.  

I loved.

Rose

My phone rings. 5 times.
Machine picks up. Message plays.
She hears a beep. Pause:

"Hi Nanny!"

She's peppy and chipper.  And then she sings the song:

"Oh, you're never, never home.  You're never never home.  Why the heck aren't you,  never ever home?"

You know the tune. Her confusion sets in:

"Nanny?  WHERE are you?  Where can you be at 8:30 in the morning?  Oh wait, you're at schoooool!  Nooo, it's Saturday! You can't be at school!"

It's summer vacation.  For her, days drift from one to the next. Wake up. Get Dad out of bed. Change the bed. Toss the plastic bag of soiled clothes clear across the kitchen floor like a bowling ball, proud to make it all the way to the washer. Routines. Get his pills. Test his blood. Make him breakfast. Make him walk.  Wake him up. Let him sleep.  Feed him lunch. Change his Depends. Run errands. Go the the pharmacy. Take him.  Don't take him.  Deal with bills.  Deal with health care.  Deal with life. Make him dinner.  Wait for "My Stevie." Watch TV.  Jeopardy.  Wheel of Fortune. Get Dad ready for bed. Yell at him.  Don't yell at him.  It matters little, if any at all. Or it matters more than life.

She still does not realize that this is my cell phone, so I can't pick up.   She continues:

"Well, alright.  Call me.  I wanted to talk to my girlie. And I'm sending you a check.  DON'T YOU DARE ARGUE WITH ME.  I also wanted to know if Liam ever cashed that check I sent him."

He didn't.  She never sent it. It fell behind her bed.  She doesn't know it yet, but she will. And finally:

"Call your mother. I wanna talk to you. Tell everyone I love them.  Gotta go get Daddy poopie pants out of bed.  Bye Nanny."

Dad's incontinent.

Bye mom.

                                                        Mom with the love of her life.